All About You
by soulful dreamer
Summary: I'm not just some face you used to know...I know all about you... The games are never easy to watch as an outsider, with no connection to the victors. They become even more difficult to witness when the man you begrudgingly fell in love with volunteers as tribute. When you're forced to bear witness to his murder, it hardens you to the outside world and everyone in it.


His blond hair shines in the sunlight. Together, we stretch out on a blanket in the park. Today is different than other days. Instead of finding him with his mind elsewhere, he smiles at me. It's like nothing bad has happened. Like he and I are happy in the world he'd promised me. He affectionately tucks an unruly curl behind my ear and leans over, pressing his lips against mine. When he tries to pull back, I refuse to let him go so easily. My hand finds the back of his neck as I tug him against me, deepening the kiss like the last time we were together. When he finally manages to come up for air, I look up at him, feeling better than I have in what feels like years.

"You feeling okay?" He asks me.

I give him a curious look. "Of course. Why?"

His gaze falters and he shrugs. "You're just usually not this affectionate in public." The corners of my mouth curl upward. I reach out to him, pressing my palm against his cheek.

I say in a gentle voice, "I love you. And I don't want another second to go by without you knowing just how much." He's surprised by my answer. "We wasted a lot of time before, hiding our feelings, not showing each other just how deeply we felt." The emotions are welling in my chest. The amount of love I have for him is overwhelming. My eyes fill with tears. I don't know why I'm crying now, when I should be happy.

When he brings his eyes back to mine, they're sad. "You know I'm not really here, right?"

I nod. "This is just a dream," I whisper. The vibrant blue sky and green trees surrounding us give way. Everything fades until the only thing I see is his face. That, too, eventually fades to black.

"Karena," a gentle voice brings me from my dreams. Someone is stroking my hair. As I come further into wakefulness, I feel the silk sheets against my legs, the softness of the pillow beneath my head. This life isn't the one I was born into, but it's the one I've been given. When I blink my eyes open, his mother is there. She has the same blonde hair, the same blue eyes. But she's much smaller, frail in comparison to him. "It's tour day."

Her words force me to close my eyes. It's the day I've been dreading for months. "Let's get you up. You need to look presentable." I looked over at her. "You're a part of the family, too. You'll be standing with us." The dread was seeping into my gut. "I'll draw you a bath." Her warm presence disappeared quickly into the door that led from my bedroom to the bathroom. His bathroom. I heard running water as I forced myself to sit up. With each day, it was getting harder to force myself out of bed. I knew I needed fresh air. I knew that I needed to get out and show my face in the district, but I didn't want to.

I'm not sure I could stand the constant barrage of pitiful eyes and condolences. Six months had passed since that fateful reaping day. The Capitol always scheduled the victory tour halfway between the prior year's games and the next. It was a way to keep memories of the rebellion fresh in the minds of Panem's citizens. If you asked me, it was just one reminder of how my life had changed drastically. A year ago, I stood amongst the citizens as yet another victor gave speeches about their games. In my short seventeen years at the time, I'd always rolled my eyes at the victory tour. It was unnecessary, especially in a district that practically trained its citizens to volunteer for slaughter.

Things were very different here than they were in, say, District 12, where a girl's younger sister was called upon at the Reaping. The world watched as Katniss Everdeen volunteered for the games to spare her sister. In my district, young men and women trained from the time they could hold a knife for the games. The condition was that they had to maintain passing grades in school. I didn't pay much attention to it all growing up, if we're being honest. Rumors were that we had academies solely to mold our young into warriors. That was a lie, but no one disputed it. The truth was, those who were turning seventeen entered into a tournament. The last one standing was who volunteered on reaping day. It was illegal, per the Capitol, but no one did anything to stop it.

When his mother poked her head back out, she asked if I wanted lavender or vanilla in my bath. Lavender. It was always his favorite. My sullen mood didn't improve when I sat down in the warm water. I stared blankly at my feet, ankles swollen. She tried to talk to me for a few minutes. When I didn't respond, she bowed out, saying she would check on me a little later. I can't understand how she was so positive today. All I wanted to do was hide away from the prying eyes of the Capitol cameras and the other citizens in my district. Had I not been through enough already?

I dressed silently after finishing my bath. As the only district that didn't defect from the Capitol during the rebellion all of those years ago, we had access to the best resources. Clothes, jewelry, makeup, the works. Though we weren't nearly as bad as those Capitol types. I found them to be far too flamboyant for my tastes. Sometimes I really wondered if I was meant to be in another district. I never fit in. It was a wonder that he and I ended up together. We were in two separate circles all through school. I looked over the sleek black dress I was wearing. I'd chosen it especially for this occasion. This victory tour was anything but victorious for those of us who lost loved ones. It was almost worse than the day of his funeral.

A knock at the door stole my attention. "The train just arrived," his mother said. The room was starting to spin. "Are you ready?" I was going to be sick. There was no way I could do this.

Shivering, I shuffled up onto the platform behind his mother. They didn't give me much choice in the matter. After I nearly fainted back at the house, his parents told me I had to go. I had to show that we stood united behind the Capitol. How could they be so supportive of a government that sent children to slaughter? I stood behind his mother as the victors gave their speeches. As I looked around, I noticed more looks of disdain on the faces of the people than those of gratitude. In a strange way, it comforted me, knowing that not all of the people here were as complacent as his parents.

It was always frigid for the victory tour. I pulled my coat more tightly for warmth. I couldn't button it anymore. I needed to get bigger clothes, but I refused to use money that wasn't mine. Most of the time I felt like I was trespassing on the life of someone else. Even though his family was so nice to me, it just felt...wrong without him. Everything had been so rushed with us that I never quite had time to become acquainted with them. I'd had grandeur dreams of the world he promised me, the world after the games, when he wouldn't have to worry anymore about the pressures that came with being a member of a highly ranked family in our district.

After the speeches were over, we were escorted to dinner with the higher ups of the district. Courses were served, but I couldn't eat any of it. If I did, it would all end up on the floor because of the knots in my belly. I spied Katniss and Peeta, sitting side-by-side with blank expressions on their faces. She wore a deep blue velvet dress and a diamond necklace. I kept an eye on her through the entire thing, watching how Peeta gave her gentle reminders to smile, or to use a particular utensil with her food. It made me sick. I knew they weren't in love. A blind man could see that Katniss only cared about herself. She focused on pushing the food around her plate rather than eating. It was ironic, really, for someone who didn't seem to get enough to eat back home, she sure wasn't taking advantage of it here.

As dessert was being served, she stood from her seat and exited the room. My curiosity got the best of me. I scooted the chair back and excused myself with a sheepish smile, stating I needed a bathroom break. It was hardly a lie. I casually walked out of the nearest exit and spotted her down at the end of the corridor. She walked outside of the double doors that led to a terrace overlooking the city. This was my chance. I walked as quickly as I could and pushed the doors open. She turned around suddenly, surprise taking over her expression when she realized I wasn't who she was expecting.

Recognition filled her eyes. She'd refused to look at us while they were giving the speeches, but I knew she'd seen me. "Um..hello," she said cautiously.

Before I could think, the back of my hand stung from slapping her across the face. She placed a hand to her cheek and turned her head toward me, her brow furrowed. "You killed him," I said, my voice heavy. "Why did you kill him?"

"He was going to kill Peeta," she protested. I could see how vehemently she felt about it.

"He was coming home to me. To us. Do you know what you've done?!" I felt a sharp pain in my side. I'd had far too much excitement for one day. I gripped onto the railing and haunched over, one hand to my bulging belly.

The thing was, Cato may have been a killer deep down, but, to me, he was a gentle soul who got in over his head before I had the chance to save him.

–

"Need I remind you, Cato, that you must pass all of your finals to be eligible for the results of the tournament to stand." I didn't intend on hearing this conversation. In fact, I was the girl who kept her head down. I wanted nothing to do with any of it, or any of them for that matter. District Two was such a large place, one would think it would be easy to disappear. For the most part, it was. I focused on my studies and what I wanted to do with my future. Jobs like peace keeper, brick mason, plasterer...they weren't for me. I had higher hopes of getting out of two. I wanted to do something worthwhile, something that actually made me feel good.

Instead, it was expected of me to marry a peace keeper or a brick mason and just deal with it. I was raised by my father, a brick mason himself. He worked long hours, so I basically raised myself. By the time I turned seventeen, I was planning my next move to get out. I was late leaving class when I overheard the teacher telling Cato he had to pass his finals for his tournament scores to remain. Quickly, I shoved the books into my bag and made my way toward the door.

"I _have_ to pass that final," Cato said, slamming his hand down on the desk in front of the teacher. "You can't let me fail."

"It's not up to me, Cato. It's up to you. Based on your most recent work, you won't pass." By then, I'd reached the door and turned into the hallway. "Maybe you can ask a classmate for help, like Karena." I cringed at the words that carried out into the nearly empty hallway. Help Cato? Cato, who made my life hell alongside his career buddies? It wasn't going to happen. Not if I had any say so in the matter. The last thing I needed was to tutor some meathead because he didn't care enough about his education to achieve the things he wanted.

My feet couldn't get me home fast enough that day. I thought about skipping class the next day, but I knew that if I did, I could get in trouble. I had a perfect record, and I wasn't going to mess it up now. Not when I could see the finish line. Instead, I did what I always did: I bowed my head, tucked my books against my chest, and held on to the strap of my backpack. Cato and his crew of misfits hung out on the front stairs, catcalling, making obscene remarks, even tripping a boy and causing him to fall face first onto the stone steps. What made them think they were so much better than the rest of us? Because they were willing to die to bring some sort of "glory" to their district? What was glorious about murder?

Every single year, male and female tributes competed in the tournament to see who would volunteer to go into the games on Reaping Day. Every year, we would be forced to watch the opening ceremonies, the interviews, and the games would begin. I was tired of watching children starve and die for no purpose at all, but there was nothing I could do about it. At least not right now. If I was able to make it to the Capitol some day, I could work my way into politics and bring about change. But, at seventeen, the best thing I could do would be distance myself from those types of people. I approached the stairs and kept my eyes low. They were hollering after a younger student, a boy, who apparently entered the tournament. They mocked him.

Luckily, I was able to slip by unscathed this time. I was used to their comments by now. Cato wasn't even the worst of them. The odds on favorite for female tribute, Clove, was by far the most disgusting of them. I recalled a story that she was raised without a mother. Her father was a previous victor from one of the games about twenty years ago. I'd see them in town sometimes. He always had this...look...on his face. One that warned me to stay far away from him. "Can you believe _he_ entered? Does he really think he stands a chance?" Clove asked loudly. Her group of friends roared in laughter. I paused briefly, looking them over as I stood near the entrance to the school. Usually, I didn't dawdle. I went straight to class. For some reason, I found myself watching Cato. He was grinning as he looked over at one of the boys in his crew. That's when his eyes caught mine.

My shoulders tensed as the smirk fell away from his face. He knew that I overheard the conversation yesterday. Great. I was hoping I could remain invisible. It wasn't much longer until school would be over and I'd be gone. As quickly as possible, I turned and headed into the school, trying to forget that look on his face. I found myself wishing there were academies that tributes went through, instead of having to go through regular school. That way we could be separate. I opened my locker and shoved the books in my hands inside, then swapped out a couple of books in my backpack. Dad didn't like that I was so intent on my studies. He worried that I would forget my place as a proper wife and mother to children. Didn't he understand? That wasn't the life I was meant to lead. He could never understand that. Instead, he would hide my books or badger me with questions about homework. Once I was of age, I was leaving this district and there was nothing he could do to stop me.

My locker slammed shut and I turned to the right, toward my classroom. A barely audible gasp came from my mouth as I saw someone leaning against the lockers beside me. His arms crossed over his chest as he gave a smug smile. "Karena," he greeted in a low voice.

"Cato." I rolled my eyes and turned from him, walking toward my classroom. I heard his heavy footfalls as he caught up to me.

"I'd like to have a discussion with you," he said, grabbing my forearm. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked over at him.

"We have nothing to discuss." My tone was clipped. I wasn't going to entertain him. "I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no." Wrenching my arm from his grasp, I continued down the hallway.

"I can do something for you in return," he said, the edges of his tone tinged with worry. "Anything that you want, I'll do it." The bell rang as I paused outside of my classroom door. I looked up at him.

"There is _nothing_ I want from you," I said, not hiding the disgust in my voice. "So find someone else, because I know a lost cause when I see one." As I turned to walk into the classroom, I felt his hand at my arm again.

"Karena," He said, losing that boyish charm that usually rested in his voice. "Please." I frowned. He reminded me of the boy I knew when we were young. The one who didn't talk down to others. Cato was actually a nice person before he got these grandeur ideas in his head about bringing glory to his district.

"I'm sorry, Cato, you have to find someone else," I whispered. This time, I was gentler when I pulled my arm from his grip. Without another word, I walked into my classroom and planted myself in my desk.


End file.
